Body as a Single-Family Home
My ribcage must be the foyer, all high ceilings and wasted space and a place for the air to circulate. Small voices echoing off the walls of my lungs.
Liberado
The old man strolls down Avinguda Gaudi, shopping sack in hand, unburdened by clothing. He seems perfectly decent with his trim, white beard and hairless torso.
The Rental
At first I refused to leave the house in a robe in front of the new neighbors, and now it hangs open while I take out the trash.
My Brother, the Salmon
He’s swimming upstream again, dogged and lean, ready to spawn his latest ideas. I wonder aloud if perhaps he doesn’t need to have all the answers.
When You Find That Thing You’ve Lost, Will You Dare To Lose It Again?
The lava, which is all the colours of a human heart, flows away into holes between cobbles and into drains, along gutters, out of the town square, out of the town.